


The Shadowlands

by brieflyshystarfish



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-11-07 01:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11048880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflyshystarfish/pseuds/brieflyshystarfish
Summary: Happy endings now belong to all who live in Storybrooke and its connected realms. But what happens when realms outside -- shadowy lands full of deeper, older, dangerous magic and power -- catch word of the savior and her queen, and pull them in for help?Cannon divergent after 6B.An adventure in which a swan and her queen do battle, vanquish foes, and fall in love.





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> We start shortly after Henry wakes Emma up with true love's kiss after her fight with Gideon (6b), and goes cannon divergent from there. This is a slow-ish burn. Some angst, some fluffy moments, tenderness. The rating will likely change as the story progresses. 
> 
> For those of you who'd already started reading along, I'd originally posted Chapter 1 a couple months ago, but hit a wall and decided to redo it from scratch. I rewrote and am reposting a new version of Ch 1 in addition to Ch 2 here today. 
> 
> Sections are told from either Emma's or Regina's pov. A line within a chapter indicates either the passage of time or a narrative switch. 
> 
> For this story, I left intact the official playing-out of the town's happy endings (including Emma's marriage) but trust -- our beloveds *will* and *do* find each other. 
> 
> Related: I've never worked with a beta but would really, really love to. If you're interested in beta-ing, for this or a future story, please drop a note in the comments here or write to brieflyshystarfish at gmail dot com. 
> 
> Thanks! Enjoy.

Regina woke with a start, a bright curling fire seared into her field of vision, an ice-cold shrieking thing swooping so close behind her that the hair on her neck stood up, as she turned towards where Emma should be--

But instead, it was Henry, whispering her name urgently, "Mom, Mom," as he touched her shoulder, peering down at her through the dark, worry etched onto his suddenly very young-looking face.

No sound but crickets. No motion but a light breeze stirring the pale curtains. Her heart wrenched in her chest. No eyes but--

Henry's. Blinking, and then sitting up so quickly she became dizzy, Regina exhaled, "What--"

"You were yelling," he said softly, then hesitated. "Again." 

Regina stared at her son, his face coming more closely into focus as the dream receded into a simple bad taste, burn and metal behind her teeth, then closed her hand over his. "Oh. I'm sorry." 

Henry peered down, then kicked off his slippers and climbed into bed beside her.

"Mom," he yawned, exasperation coloring his fondness. " _Tell_ somebody." He shut his eyes and curled his back against her side, tucking his feet into her thigh in a way he hadn't done in years. 

Regina made space for her son as she ran her palms along the damp sheets below her. Her stomach unclenched a tiny bit as the room swam more clearly into view, but she tensed with guilt when she looked Henry, his breath already easing and deepening. She was unwilling to be that mother who allowed--heavens forbid, encouraged--her son to mother her. _Yelling_?

And yet. Here he was, and here he'd decided to be. Regina lifted her hand and ran her fingers through his hair. Her brave, strong boy. His body shivered, a series of tiny flickers as his nerves unwound, limbs going totally slack as he tumbled back into sleep. She curled a lock of his hair tenderly around her finger, pulled the top sheet off the bed and recovered a dry blanket from the closet to drape over him. 

She went to the window, cinching her robe tighter and observing the watery moonlight spilling over her yard.

Every night it was the same. A pressure bearing down on her chest, loads of voices in languages she did or did not understand, clamoring and roaring for her. A terrible thing coming, or several, or a person, some threat in the distance approaching rapidly, some force that would destroy everything good. A feeling, each time, like she was herself a compass or a map, or that somehow she understood where to go, which was to go straight into the maw, straight into the terror, and Emma, always beside her, split into points of light, like a star halved and halved again, trusting and--tethered?--to Regina. 

Every night, she looked in the dream and Emma was always there, gazing back at her with a ferocity that made her a tiny bit less afraid.

And every night, in a sweat, terrified for her life, for Emma's, Regina woke up gasping into her own silent room. Turning to the place, instinctively, in that weird pre-awakeness, she knew Emma would be. Where, of course, Emma was not. 

Because it was just a dream. 

It made sense, Regina reasoned, turning her mind jerkily back from the dream's aftermath to its contents. She wound the velvet curtain cord between her fingers. It made sense because they did this. They went on fool's errands, they confronted death, monsters had tried to obliterate them. It made sense that her subconscious kept propelling her into nightmares built of the pieces that had defined so much of their past. It made sense, she told herself fiercely. It didn't mean anything. 

But it pulled at her, this thing with Emma. 

Not that Emma was there in the dream. No. What surprised Regina was how immediate the loss felt each time she woke up to vacancy beside her. The wrongness would linger until morning, until the daylight drove the common sense back into her brain and dried up this aching, unsettled part of her that didn't, actually, feel like fear at all, but something different, something that struck Regina much deeper, was far more uncomfortable than fear. 

Her fingers itched towards her phone but she firmed her mouth, winding the cord tighter instead in her hand. No. There was no sense in waking Emma up in the middle of the night for something as--foolish as checking to make sure a dream was just a dream. It was obviously a dream. Texting Emma would be--ridiculous. Would be giving in, making this fake thing, this--and she felt her lip curl into a sneer-- _fear_ \--real.

Henry stirred, and Regina looked tenderly at him. Another memory tugged.

Their child bending beside Emma's body. Those few seconds before Henry had given her true love's kiss--as Emma lay on the pavement, split into slices of light, dead--felt like entire lifetimes. Five, to be precise. Standing on the night-blotted street, Regina found herself fifth in line--behind Hook, behind Snow and David, behind even Henry--to keen over Emma's body, to touch her, to try to bring life back into her. 

So instead of reaching for her, Regina had stood ramrod-still, unbreathing, willing Emma's chest to rise.

And when Emma stirred again under Henry's touch, Regina felt something different, something that glittered vicious and painful and obvious. 

Gazing into the night now, Regina reasoned with herself sharply, roughly. _Emma is alive. Henry is alive. Everybody is alive._ She shivered. That is the reason for these stupid dreams. _You nearly lost your best friend._

But she felt the dream-fear, the waking-longing within her, unmoved by her self-talk. She blew a breath through her teeth. 

The week or two following, with his damnable watchfulness, Archie had slipped over to Regina's booth at Grannys to pass her a dogeared book called _Vicarious Trauma_. She had eyed it--and him--curiously. _When we, ah, care about others, and they suffer, sometimes we have reactions that are as if we had suffered the same way_ , he had said. Only for a moment did his eyes flicker away from Regina's, and that was when Emma had pushed open the jangly-bell door to the diner and grinned at Regina as she made her way to their table. Regina had raised her brow at Archie but taken the proffered gift, slipping it into her bag before anybody else--Emma--saw. 

That's it, she thought, exhaustion finally taking hold as the sky began to lighten towards a deep shade of blue. _Just remnants. Nothing wrong. The mind doing what it does._ Daylight would wash it all away.

And yet. She dropped the cord and touched the window, sliding her fingers lightly against the cool glass until she'd left three barely-visible streaks. 

Maybe Henry was right. Maybe it was time to tell somebody.

 

________

 

Sunlight tore through the blinds. Emma grumbled a curse and opened her eyes to Killian, awake Killian--a very, very wide-awake Killian?--whose eyes were fixed on her. 

"Sup," she mumbled.

"M'lady, it seems," and he paused. Why was he so damn awake? She closed her eyes and turned onto her back, arching into a stretch. She flopped back down and exhaled, squinting one eye back open towards him. 

No luck. He was still staring at her. "Oh my god, Killian, _whaaat."_

He cleared his throat. "What were you dreaming about?"

"What? I don't know." Emma exhaled noisily, then furrowed her brow. "I don't remember."

"Well, you were thrashing around like a wild thing. You know I like that," he grinned at her a little and she felt her mouth turn up in response. "But, ah, this keeps happening. I'm shocked it doesn't wake you."

"Nope," Emma said, nestling herself back into the pillow. She felt her eyes closing. It was Sunday. Sleep trumped curiosity. 

"Nope what?"

"Nope all of it. C'mon," she lazily pulled at his arm. "Sleep. More sleep." 

"Love, are you sure you don't remember?"

Irritation began to prickle Emma. She fought it, willing herself to stay in that cosy, floaty pre-sleep space. Why wouldn't he just let her--

He brushed her hair from her eyes, a little clumsily. She peeked again. He was frowning. "Do you dream about Regina often, love?

Now she was awake. "What?"

He repeated himself, gaze fixed on her, slowing down his words. "Do you. Dream about. Regina? Often?"

"Um, no?"

"You sure, love? You were calling her name half the night."

She sat up, ice flooding her spine, all hope for an easy Sunday morning peace abandoning her in an instant. "What?"

His gaze had turned wary. "So you do remember, love."

"No, I--What was I saying?"

"Are you nervous?"

Yes. "No. God. Why are you making such a big deal about this?" Emma braced herself for his reaction, the charged air between them signaling the start of an argument, but he surprised her, rolling over onto his back instead with a sigh. 

After a moment, he said, quietly, "Would she have been better for you?"

Reeling, Emma sat up. "What?" she asked, for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning. "Are you drunk? It's--" she picked up her phone from the bedside table, momentarily distracted by a slew of unopened texts from David. "ONLY seven thirty. AM. Like, in the morning." 

He shook his head, the glint of a smile reappearing. "Kiss me, love." 

She bent towards him, but at that moment the phone rang in her hand, and she jumped, clumsily punching at the green symbol as Killian groaned. She ignored him and said, "Hello?"

It was David's voice, tinny but unmistakeable. "Emma, we need you guys at the station house. Now. There's um--a situation."

Something in his voice brooked no argument, so Emma swallowed her complaint with a gruff, "Be right there." She turned to Killian, hesitating minutely before she grazed her lips lightly against his. "Get dressed. Something's up." 

But he held onto her wrist, growling in that way she occasionally really liked, "Time for a shower?" 

She smiled at him and shook her head, but when she tried to pull away he didn't quite relax his grip. Sometimes the play between them, this roughness, this push and pull, felt good. Sometimes she liked that he was a little bad, that she was a little bad, that they argued, that they felt too much together, that things felt passionate, that things could sometimes ... spiral. Sometimes, it actually felt comforting, to be desired this strongly, to be with somebody who really got it, how insecure the world can make you feel. 

But today it felt annoying. As fuck. She jerked her arm from him. "David said now. Station house. Get ready."

Something in his gaze, a little shrewd, a little hurt, instantly made her feel guilty. "I love you," she said, softening her voice to pacify him. 

He smiled back a little, nodding and sliding out of bed. 

Emma had one leg in her pants when her phone rang again, not four minutes later. She picked it up with a breathless, "Hi, I'm almost dressed--"

The sardonic voice on the other end said, "Do you ever check to see who's calling? Why do you never think to avail yourself of these modern inventions, like caller ID--"

Emma tried to bite back her smile but felt it blossom nonetheless. "Oh, hey."

"Good morning. I'm surprised you're up."

"We're headed to the station. David called. I'll call you ba--"

"Wait. Did he see the light on the edge of town too?"

Emma paused again, balancing her phone against her shoulder to zip up her pants and then buckle her belt. "What light?"

There was silence on the other end for a second, and Emma tried, "Regina?"

The other woman's voice caught and then steadied. "Sorry to interrupt you while you're getting dressed."

"Stop being so weird and polite. I'm dressed." She felt Killian's eyes on her, hooded, leaning in the doorframe of their bathroom as he brushed his teeth. She turned her back to him, sighing inwardly. 

"Yes, Emma, a bright flash. I saw it from my window. I thought it was the sun rising, reflecting off of something--it wasn't. It happened right at dawn. At the edge of the forest." Emma could have sworn she heard Regina shrug. "So I went to see--"

"You went to _see? By yourself?"_

"Emma, I'm fine. There was nothing there. Well, nothing ... visible. It had some imprint of magic. It didn't feel--bad."

Emma sighed, imagining Regina traipsing around at dawn by herself. Imagined more portals. Imagined more things crawling out at them--she shuddered. Why on earth would Regina go alone. "Okay. See you tonight?" 

"Yes. Emma? Be safe."

Something in Regina's voice, warm, tremulous, made Emma want to stop, to ask a question, but nothing coherent formed on her tongue and they were going to be late and David was waiting.

So. "Okay," Emma said. 

They found David in front of the entrance to the station house, scratching his head. "He's gone," he said. 

"Who's gone?" Emma asked. 

"The--" he gestured at a spot on the ground. "I don't really understand what happened."

"David, uh, could you maybe tell us a little more?" 

Mulan approached them from the station house, all brisk efficiency. "It was a hologram. I took a video before he blinked out."

"A hologram?" asked Emma dubiously. "What is this, Star Trek? That's real too?"

Mulan sort of ignored her. "Look." She stepped closer to Emma, and the four bent their heads close over the small screen. 

On it, a small, entirely bright blue man--were those scales on his--legs?--was he a merman?--coughed and flickered. He said, "We need the two. We need the two." He repeated it over and over again, repeated it while David took his phone out to call Emma, repeated it when Mulan dropped to one knee to be on eye level, to ask, "Who? What? What is your name? Where are you from?" and then tentatively reached her hand out, grasping only air, continued to repeat it until he flickered out. The video ended, and the four glanced between each other. 

"It's like it was a recording," Mulan said. "I couldn't make him see me."

"Regina saw a flash on the other side of town this morning," Emma said. "Like a stubborn ass, she decided to check it out on her own. Said there was nothing there. Remnants of magic, maybe. Maybe a couple of us go there and a couple of us stay here, you know, in case--" she motioned to Mulan's phone--"he comes back?"

"Storm kelpie," Killian said. "That's who he is."

"Kelpies are real?" Emma asked, glancing around to the bemused stares of a pirate, a prince, and a princess soldier. She shook her head and grimaced. "Sorry, even after all these years it just ... sometimes it's still surprising. Anyway. What's a storm kelpie?"

"But do you know what a kelpie is, love?"

"Yeah, like the Loch Ness monster. A water spirit that takes on mortal form." Emma grinned as Killian raised his eyebrows, impressed. "This girl I liked in one of my earliest homes was convinced she was one." At that, Killian's grin faded demonstrably, and Mulan's gaze fixed on her, suddenly mirthful. "What? Oh. Yeah, well." Emma shifted her weight on her feet, suddenly nervous. "So. What's a storm kelpie?"

"Trouble," Killian said, eyeing her curiously. "They're trouble."

"Not always," Mulan said. "And happy endings have been restored here. So I can't imagine--"

Emma knew that she agreed with Mulan, but found herself interjecting anyway. "Maybe it's better to imagine? David, let's check out the forest. Killian and Mulan, would you mind staying here in case he returns?"

Mulan nodded, Killian opened his mouth as if to object, which Emma, if she was honest with herself, knew he was going to do. Of course he wanted to be with her. And if she was extra honest with herself, she would register the relief she felt when as David swiftly said, "Yes, of course." 

She was, Emma thought, pulling the seatbelt over her shoulder, still getting used to the idea of marriage, the weight of a ring on her finger, the weight of a heart in her hands.

But. Sometimes she needed to breathe, to take a minute away in order to remember who she was. She chalked it up to her own deficiency, her own learning how to be in family. Emma rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was okay. It had to be okay. 

"You good, kid?"

Emma smiled over at David. He'd taken to calling her kid just like she called Henry, and she liked it, liked it better than anything else they'd called her. It felt like a name she could climb into, one that could hold her without strangling her. Not like daughter could be, heavy with expectations she didn't always trust herself to fulfill. Or, for that matter, wife. "Yeah. I'm good."

She texted Regina: _Where did the light come from? Drop a pin for us?_

The response came a second later, as if Regina had been waiting. _Is the pirate with you? Shall I join you?_

Emma rolled her eyes. _My husband? No. But David is._

Regina responded with a pin, then, _Don't be a hero, Emma. In and out._

Then, for the second time that morning: _Be safe._

This time, though, Emma scowled at her phone. David said, "What happened?"

"Regina keeps reminding me to be safe." She heard the petulance in her voice and didn't care. 

"Oh," he said.

"It's like ... she thinks it's my fault, what happened before. With--" she gestured limply.

David looked at Emma sharply. "You know she doesn't think that."

"She's hovering. It's weird."

"How is she hovering? She's not here now."

"I know, but--" Emma leaned her head on the window, exhaled, and drew a messy skull and crossbones in the mist. "It just feels different. Like we're walking on eggshells with each other. I want _Regina_ back." 

"She--" David cut herself off. "Maybe you two should talk."

"Killian is jealous of her."

David laughed. Laughed. Out loud. 

Emma stared at him, a little outraged. "Dad. It's not funny."

He regarded her, eyes a little too sanguine for his babyface. "Yes, it is." 

Emma started to argue, what point she wasn't even sure, but at that moment felt a surge of a low, strange magic. It thrummed acutely around her, almost but not quite musical. They were at at the edge of the forest. Emma's own magic cast through her, pulling to meet the other. She lost the thread of her words, then shook her head to clear her mind. 

"We're here." Emma looked down at the pin, still illuminated on her screen. "Yeah. We're here. I feel it." 

They parked in a hushed clearing, no birds, no sound from the faraway street. Magic was imprinted around them, like Regina said, but not roiling, the remnant of a magic done, not the totality of the magic itself, and Emma could taste metal at the back of her throat, but it wasn't--wrong--it wasn't unpleasant, glimmering on the edges of her consciousness. 

Familiar, even. 

Emma then reached for traces of Regina's magic, and found glimpses of her, traces of smoky purple, and exhaled in relief, feeling a sudden confidence lighten her shoulders, enough she needed to do whatever she needed to do. She closed her eyes, and lifted her wrists, and--

David touched her forearm. Emma froze, startled. "Emma, what are you doing?"

"Casting an origin spell. I want to know where this all is coming from." 

"Is that a wise idea?"

"Yes...? I mean, didn't we fix everything out here? Wasn't that what happened with Gideon? Isn't what Mulan said true? And it doesn't feel--evil. It just--I just want to know." She smiled at him. "It'll be okay. It just shows me where it comes from. Just back up."

David hesitated, then nodded. "Okay." He moved a few paces behind her, and Emma felt him watching her as she lifted her arms again.

Instantly, Emma knew she had miscalculated. A magic sprung up, but it was sprawling and whirling around her, a bright bone-white color, not hers, as if it could communicate with her, as if it was talking to her, overwhelming her inch by inch, like a giant that didn't know its own power, suffusing her in an rare, new scent, beckoning to her, frantically holding her, showing her, too intense, too intense. Emma kneeled, overcome, but it knelt with her, and as she slunk further, the whirring gathering an impossible amount of strength around her, Emma suddenly remembered her dream, the one that had so distressed Killian, in a flash that unfolded hours into seconds. 

A fire. A bright cold thing, descending on her. But evil. Not like this. Regina's eyes, full and bright and sharp and afraid and brave. The sword in Emma's hand, heavier than she was used to. A round object, a compass? in Regina's. 

How Regina had taken her by the hand, and how warm, how complete that had felt, how it had settled and invigorated Emma the way casting magic together did. How Regina had looked at her mournfully, how Emma had smiled at her, and how they had, as if sharing the same mind, plunged forward into the danger together. 

As if from a great distance, Emma heard David yelling, and then felt herself suffused in a familiar, yielding smoke that lingered, a cloudy puff, and Emma surrendered totally to unconsciousness. 

 

_______

 

Emma woke to the pressure of a cold cloth on her temple, blinking up to Regina's face, which underwent this really sort of stunning transformation from concern to raw--relief?--to annoyance to impassivity in under three seconds. 

"You're an idiot." 

Oh. Definitely annoyance. But Regina's hands soothing Emma's brow, generous and soft, were the opposite of her tone, voice clipped and low and verging on hostility. 

"I--"

"You need your rest. There's water bedside." 

"Regina--"

"You weren't careful."

"How did--"

Regina cut her off once again. "David called me. I poofed us here. You went totally unconscious when we apparated. I don't know why you decided to rile up something you didn't know. Why you can't just--goddammit, Emma." And to Emma's horror, Regina's voice cracked, cracked, and spilled. 

She stepped away from Emma smoothly, almost out of reach. Her shoulders tensed, shaking, and Emma knew in an instant that she'd been wrong. Regina wasn't angry. Regina was terrified. 

Oh. Shit. "Regina," Emma said low and soft. "Regina, I'm here." Emma lifted her fingers, reaching out to barely brush against Regina's sleeve. "I'm here. I'm okay. Please look at me."

They hadn't talked, just the two of them, since what had happened. There had been family dinners, breakfasts with Henry together, work meetings to review budget allocations. But it was as if they both had studiously avoided any conversation that could veer remotely heavy or serious. Well, Emma had. Because feelings? Yeah. Avoidable. Anyway, it wasn't like things wouldn't eventually be okay. It wasn't their first rodeo. But in place of sharing, a weird, stilted thing had taken root between them. 

Maybe David had been right about the talking. 

"I'm okay, Regina," Emma repeated again, making her voice stronger. It was true. Emma shifted to a seated position--where was she, anyway? in Regina's bed? so soft--and then smiled wryly, lifting her arms in a gesture of mock helplessness, then seizing the opportunity to flex her muscles, earning a tiny smile from her friend. "I'm an idiot, but I'm here."

Regina looked at her, one of those fathomless looks that both stilled and cut through Emma, and gave her head a little shake. When she spoke, she did not look away, and her voice was the softest Emma had ever heard it. "Please sleep, Emma. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Regina," Emma started, but then stopped, not sure what to say. 

Regina paused, her hand on the doorknob, regarding her, the bright tenderness in her gaze unabated, just ... waiting. 

"Um, your bed is soft." _And it smells really, really good,_ but there was no way in hell she was saying _that._

And there it was. Balance restored. As if she could hear Emma's thoughts, Regina smirked, then dragged a suddenly dangerous gaze up and down her form. "I like it." Her eyes snapped back to Emma's. "You enjoy being in my bed, Emma?"

Emma's tongue stumbled over a response, fighting to keep her expression neutral, totally, totally failing. Regina's eyes flashed, amused, as she closed the door behind her. 

_Sleep. Sure._

 

_____

 

"Thanks for not killing my daughter earlier today, Regina."

She lifted an eyebrow at David and barked a short laugh. "You're welcome." 

"Is Ma okay?" Henry snuck a piece of cheese from behind her back. Regina saw, and knew Henry saw that she'd seen, let her gaze rest on him for a minute until he cocked his head and smiled tentatively and popped it in his mouth anyway. She rolled her eyes but felt her lips twitch in a smile. She was getting soft. Emma said--well, Emma said she was soft already, had never been anything but soft for Henry. 

"Yes, honey. She's fine. Hopefully resting, if she knows what's good for her. Your other mother is a fool."

Henry grinned. "You never call her that when you're actually mad at her. Not anymore."

Regina scoffed, but she didn't miss the knowing look that Henry and David passed. "Make yourselves useful, please. Henry, will you teach David how to set the table?"

"I know how to set a table, Regina."

Henry dropped off the stool with a heavy, exaggeratedly put-upon exhale. "Not in this house, you don't. Let me show you, gramps."

Regina hadn't slept worth a damn, had been scared shitless not once but twice that day, but she was determined to pull off Sunday night dinner in standard exquisite fashion. Nothing, no nightmares, no unexpected flashes of magic, no foolishly-behaving saviors, nothing would derail her from her bimonthy pleasure of showing Snow up during the weekly family dinner. Tonight? Duck in a wine reduction. Some magic with vegetables, maybe not literally. Her garden had yielded these extraordinary bunches of rainbow kale that managed to smell like earth and rain. Bitter, so she'd have to cook them down, but not far enough to slush or lose their extravagant coloring. Regina bit her lip in anticipation, humming with the pleasure and challenge of creating. Mac and cheese with grueyere for the children. And, well, for Emma. Something chocolate for dessert. For herself. And now--a cider. 

As she poured, Regina fought the wave of exhaustion rising. That morning, her heart heavy and laden with dream, she'd seen the flash in the distance and hadn't given a single thought to anyone or anything as thought as she'd apparated there, right there, in her robe, in her bare feet. She'd stood silently, the scent and sounds of early-morning forest soothing her in a way that felt completely wordless, before she registered the strange, new energy all around her. It didn't feel like anything dangerous. But she knew, better, apparently, than Emma did, to investigate with her own magic. More startled by her impulsivity than the flash itself, she poofed back into the house, checked on Henry and walked herself into the shower. She hadn't even tried to sleep again.

A small noise behind her in the kitchen, and when Regina turned, there stood Emma, blanket wrapped around her shoulders and feet bare. Unable to restrain herself, Regina scolded, "Emma, if you're cold, where are your _socks?"_ and poofed a pair onto her feet. Startled, Emma laughed out loud, a glancing from her feet to Regina with an expression of such delight that Regina bit her lip and grinned despite herself. 

Emma wiggled her toes. "Purple?"

"Suits you, dear."

She felt herself flush under Emma's gaze, quick and curious, and handed Emma a knife. Regina pointed to a solitary, wrinkled pepper. "It's hot. Mince it. That means into very little pieces."

Emma nodded and took the knife from Regina with some trepidation, her lower lip jutting out the way she did when she faced--what? Dragons?

"Emma, it's not going to fight back."

Bemused, Emma relaxed her shoulders. A beat passed, then she said, over her shoulder, "I napped. I feel better."

"I see."

They didn't say more than that, and Regina was glad, not because she didn't like to talk to Emma, but because within her things had taken on a peculiar shape, one she hadn't really known to exist between them before and was unwilling to dissect now. She was aware of Emma's every gesture, aware of her own constant desire to make Emma feel okay-- _she's just chopping peppers, she doesn't need a goddamn aide,_ she told herself, as she caught herself glancing over more than a few times--and it felt all--too much. It felt too much.

She felt too much. 

So when Zelena breezed through the kitchen with Robyn on her arm, Regina jumped up, maybe a little too fast, taking the mischieveous baby into her own arms and setting her sister down at the table with a drink. Emma by now had moved to tempering chocolate, which she did too hesitantly to inspire any real confidence, and Regina urged her out of the kitchen swiftly with a firm "Rest, Emma," that left Emma looking confused but shuffling in the direction of the living room, compliant. 

Zelena huffed out a laugh but said nothing until Emma had left. "What's up, sis?"

Regina brusquely dropped a bowl and a handful of ingredients in front of her sister. "Here, mix."

For once Zelena just ... quietly did what was asked. 

Well, for about fifteen seconds. "Ugh, just _tell_ me," Zelena wheedled, dropping the whisk into the bowl with a clatter. "You look positively _constipated."_

So Regina did. She told her about the dream and about the flash and about Emma's damnable savior complex that was going to absolutely, inevitably get her killed--

"Ah," said Zelena. 

Regina paused mid-breath. "Ah what?"

"Nothing. Please continue."

"You know, Henry told me to tell somebody."

"How did Henry...?"

"He heard me yelling in my sleep." Regina averted her eyes, careful to make the expression on her face blank. 

"Don't do that. You're not a bad mother if your baby hears you, oh, I don't know, breaking things, yelling ... setting the occassional mouse on fire." Zelena scrunched her nose. "Right?"

"I don't know about any of that. I just know I don't want Henry feeling like I'm some," Regina gestured, emotion getting the better of her. "Weak thing. Weak thing that needs his protection. Not like--"

"His blonde mommy." 

Regina gave a tiny nod. "What do I do about the dreams?"

"Have you talked to Emma about them?"

"Talked to me about what?" 

Regina wheeled around to Emma directly behind her, look sly as she swiped her index finger deliberately into the bubbling cheese sauce. 

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long enough to hear your secrets, geez." Emma rolled her eyes, then caught Regina's gaze and held it as she slowly dipped her finger in her own mouth, watching, Regina felt distractedly, as she sucked it clean and then reached down for--

As if snapping out of a trance, Regina sprung forward. "Oh NO you don't! Not again. Get out."

Emma grinned as she spun around to the living room and Regina tried so, so hard not to stare. 

"Don't worry, she'd just gotten here," Zelena said languidly. Too languidly. She flicked Regina a purposeful gaze, imitating licking her fingers. "Do that often with her, do you?" 

"Shut up," Regina said, still eyeing Emma's retreating form. "If I tell her, she'll worry."

"All you two do is worry about each other. It's really sort of--"

Cursing herself inwardly, more out of embarassment than anything else, Regina cut her sister off. "What if she--misinterprets?" 

Zelena smirked. "Oh, I don't think it would be misinterpreting." She gave the door Emma'd exited a suggestive glance and Regina rolled her eyes. "You're rather obvious."

Of all of the presumptuous, condescending, and off the mark ... "Not what I mean."

"Well. Her pirate is in the living room."

Regina felt herself stiffen automatically and cursed herself again for giving Zelena the satisfaction. She said: "I'm happy for her."

"You're a terrible liar."

Instead of arguing, Regina turned back to the stove, where she'd set the duck to cool enough for carving. "It's ready." Regina popped her head into next room, Robyn still heavy on her hip, and for a second she caught Emma's gaze, thoughtful as it moved from Regina's face to the baby and back. Hook's hand stilled on Emma's back, possessive to the last. Henry was teaching Snow how to work the xbox controllers, and David held a sleeping Neal. Regina cleared her throat. "Henry, come help me serve."

Dinner was an easy affair, as it had become, and as the minutes passed Regina felt a lazy, expansive contentment take root in her as her family--her family--filled and refilled their plates, the adults getting a little loose-tongued on wine and cider and the children sleepy on full bellies then frantic and playful when full of chocolate. 

As if by some collective agreement, or exhaustion, they didn't talk all together about the day's events, not until the table had been cleared and people drifted into loose clusters or pairs around the dining room table or draped themselves over the living room furniture. 

Henry took Robyn, who delighted in drawing vague shapes with little green bursts of light and letting Henry rearrange them into letters, sounding them out for her as she squealed and twisted in his arms in delight. 

Everything felt easy, soft. Right. Safe. 

Emma, unsurprisingly, fell asleep, tucked into a corner of the large couch, while Killian and David sat opposite her and talked about--ships or some nonsense. Regina flicked her wrist to roar up a small fire in the grate beside Emma. 

Snow approached quietly, silent for a moment before she spoke. 

"Regina," she said. "David said you went alone this morning to the forest."

Regina nodded, not taking her eyes off the fire. "I did."

"You don't have to protect her. You should have called her, Regina."

Dammit. Regina closed her eyes, willing herself to steel. "That's not why--"

"Next time, and hopefully there isn't a next time, maybe this was all just a fluke? Call her. Or call your sister. Or me. Or anybody. You can't risk it. You're stuck with us now," and Snow smiled at her. "And we want to keep you. Promise me."

"It's fine," Regina retorted. "Nothing went wrong."

Snow said again, way softer this time, "She's okay, Regina."

Regina exhaled, feeling the fight in her dissapate as quickly as it had arisen. She stole a glance at Snow. "She told me as much today." 

"Promise me."

"I won't go alone. I don't even know why I did. I just thought, I didn't want to involve--It's been so much--" Regina paused. 

Snow nodded firmly. "Right. But. No more going it alone."

Regina didn't move, didn't speak, didn't respond in any discernible way, but Snow seemed to understand her anyway, correctly interpreting her silence as aquiescence, touching Regina's hand and squeezing it briefly in her own. 

"Mom, look at Ma," Henry said quietly, and pointed at the couch where Emma slept. 

Emma murmured and then let out a low soft cry that grew in intensity before it fell off into a whimper. Emma made another noise, this time pitched in distress and then began to writhe and murmur lowly, now too low to discern. 

Killian stood abruptly. Regina turned to find him staring directly at her, his gaze so suspicious and fraught that she startled under its weight. He hadn't moved an inch towards his wife, and she opened her mouth to bitchily instruct him to do so when--

"Regina!" Emma yelled out, and Regina swooped down, planting her hands firmly on Emma's shoulders and shaking until Emma's eyes blinked open, locking on Regina for a second before shutting them and shuddering head to toe. 

"Wake up, Emma," Regina snapped. 

The room around them had gone quiet, and Emma let loose another unintelligible shout. More troubling, though, than not being able to wake her, was how hot Emma's body had become under Regina's hands, and then, even more disconcerting than that, Regina felt the first stirrings again of that odd magic, that metallic taste rise in the back of her throat, and she felt her own magic begin to stir in response, then flow through her, felt Emma's respond to hers, rising also. 

"Mom!" Henry cried out. 

Now fully alarmed, Regina looked up, and instead of one magic, there were three: hers, Emma's, and the one she had sensed but not touched earlier that morning. Like a small, windless tornado, the magics swirled together above them, distinguishable from one another but also folding over each other, blending in the middle and popping and sparking at the edges. Regina tried to drag hers back into her body, tried to still the flow, but it was as if her magic was compelled on its own, and she wondered, irritated, if this is how love felt, a thing that flowed out of her without control, without even consent, without regard for her own safety or sanity. 

Regina threw up both of her hands, drawing on everything in her body to cast a protection spell, and a green blur of light joined her own--thank gods for Zelena--and--well, nothing. Unmoved by individual desire as a sea in a storm, the energies above them crashed and dipped and pulled harder and harder at Regina. On instinct, she grasped Emma's whole self in her arms, as much as she could hold, molding her body to hers, making a wall of herself with what was left of her magic to shield Emma against whatever was spinning above them. 

Only then did she feel Emma stir more fully awake beneath her. They locked eyes, Emma's widening with partial recognition, still halfway here and halfway elsewhere, Henry's calls fading, a hand at her back, Snow's?--and a low voice she thought was Hook's but maybe--

Emma continued to gaze at her fully, her bright eyes way more unafraid than Regina felt she had reason to be, and gaze only at her, not at anybody else in the room, not at the maelstrom above them, nowhere but Regina, and Regina's heart might have stopped in her throat, unaccountably nervous at how close their bodies pressed together, but then Emma said, clear as day, "Regina, you have to let us go to them." 

Um, fuck no. Absolutely not. Regina pressed her lips in a thin line and shook her head firmly. 

"Regina, it's the only way to stop it." Emma's words were bit away by the energy descending lower and lower around them and suddenly Regina couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything, flexed her arm around Emma's waist, still shaking her head No. 

But Emma wasn't all the way there, maybe didn't even hear her, and Regina felt herself slipping, like being dragged underwater, and maybe she could trust Emma, even this weird halfawake Emma, and if anything, for god's sake, Emma wasn't going anywhere without her--

Regina turned her head, flicking her eyes over to Henry, but couldn't see anything except the mess of colors tightly woven as a cocoon around them, spinning and shifting. Cursing, Regina extended her hand to where she thought he'd been sitting. 

To her absolute relief, Regina felt a hand grasp back tightly. 

Emma's lips brushed her ear, whispered something Regina could not hear, and Regina clung to both of these people she loved so much, so unequivocally much, muttered another curse, and surrendered them all to the storm.


	2. Monday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Mondays are generally shit, Emma mused, but this one really, and she meant really, took the cake. 

She pushed herself up to sitting, dragging a hand over her face to wipe away the grains of sand already gritting her lips and teeth and grimacing through a pain that radiated down from her skull through both arms. 

"Whatever it was, it fucking _dropped us_ ," Emma said without preamble, realization dawning as she dug her hands in the sand. Too much sand. Sand everywhere. "Where are we?" 

But Regina was on her feet, casting her gaze around frantically. "Where's Henry?"

"Henry no, no Henry, Henry no," a very deep voice sounded behind them. 

Emma startled and Regina spun around. The blue man. Hologram man. But wait, not a hologram--and that was, yep, that was a fish tail. He was so blue. So was the water. The water that stretched--Emma groaned. Fucking endlessly. 

They were on an island. And it was hot. 

Regina's words registered, and Emma turned to her with surprise. "Henry was with us?" 

"Henry there. Only the Two are here," he said, grinning at them. "Good job!"

"I had his hand in mine," Regina spit through her teeth. "I did NOT have let him go. WHERE did you send him? Where IS he? I'll kill you."

"No no no no no, not here. There. Where you were. Not here. There."

Emma put a hand on Regina's shoulder, a gesture that automatically stilled her. Emma spoke. "Back at the house? With our family?"

The man nodded rapidly, smile wiped from his face and not taking his eyes off of a gloriously furious Regina. 

_Good,_ Emma thought with satisfaction. _Be terrified. Regina is terrifying._

"Are you sure, kelpie? Because if you lie to me--"

"No lies, no lies no lies. Queen! No lies for the Queen!"

"Prove it," Regina said sharply. She flexed her hand and Emma noticed the glint of satisfaction in her eyes as she sucessfully gathered a fireball. 

Cool. Magic works. 

The kelpie looked at her mournfully. "Cannot. Must save us first. Must do--" and he made a manic gesture with his hands, "the fixing. Then you go see your Henry in the house with the chocolates and the people who are very worried, we are sorry about that. Or."

"Or what," Emma said slowly. 

"Or you go," and his eyes shifted away. "Elsewhere. For more fixes."

"Where are we?" Regina asked. "What fixing?"

"We heard about you. About the fixing. Savior. Her Queen. Queen. Her Savior. Fixing. Strongest, strongest magic. Two halves. The two. _Fixing,"_ he pronounced clearly. He fell silent, considering Regina carefully. 

Emma turned to Regina, skeptical and frustrated with the man's riddles. "Any of this make sense to you?"

But Regina's eyes had softened and focused on something on the horizon, her brow furrowed. Emma searched the bright water for a couple of beats before she realized what Regina had landed on was a thought, not a thing. Emma said again, quieter, "What is it, Regina?"

Regina shook her head, thoughtful, and the kelpie's face split open into a wide smile. Regina looked at him sharply and he looked away again, peeking back shyly as Regina found Emma's eyes. Emma smiled. Regina did not, her eyes somehow both wary and soft and hungry and--

"No. We can't do this for you." Regina said steadily. 

Something in Regina's gaze triggered Emma's memory of the dream--the couch, the whirling mess above them, Emma's own magic reaching for Regina, god, Regina's warmth and softness and strength, Regina wrapped tightly around her--Emma shook her head. It was a dream. This is what Killian was accusing her of, she concluded. Dreaming about--Regina. 

"Queen, we die. We die, Queen."

"We will not, we will not and cannot help you," Regina repeated, iron in her voice. 

"Fear! Fear! No fear!" he chanted. 

"Send us home!" Regina whirled on him, stepping into the water, shoes be damned. "You brought us here, now send us _back."_

He was silent. They stared at each other. He tentatively paddled back a step into the water. 

"Send us back. You _can_ send us back, can't you?"

He cleared his throat. "No, Queen. No. Used all our magic. Limited. Stolen. Limited stolen magic. Cannot. Only one way back. You have endless supply. You win. Win win win."

"Regina, what's going on," Emma said, worry beginning to knot her stomach. "What do they want from us?"

Regina was all ice and venom. "Did you honestly just steal us away from our families with no return ticket so that you could put us in death's way for your own selfish purposes?"

The kelpie figeted and looked down as if ashamed, then, as if making a decision, firmed his back and met Regina's glare. "Not selfish. YOU selfish. You chose. We pulled, you chose. Queen and her Savior. Savior and her Queen. You will win win."

"You pulled us from our homes, you gave us nightmares for weeks--" at this, Emma started, glancing quickly over at Regina--"for what?"

But the kelpie did not answer. "Follow me," he said calmly instead. And leapt in a perfect backwards flip into the water. Basically like no splash. _Showoff._

Emma watched him disappear, blue on blue until the man was indistinguishable from the sea. The sun beat hotly on them. Neither took another step in the direction he'd gone. 

Emma decided to ask the obvious. "What do they want from us?"

Regina was silent for a long time, for so long that Emma thought maybe she hadn't heard her. 

Finally she sighed, "Their happy endings. They want us to break their curse and make their happy endings real."

"Can we do that? How? Why us?"

Regina considered Emma for a moment, warm but inscrutable, then longer than a moment, long enough for Emma to squirm and say, "Um, earth to Regina?"

Regina let out a scoff and looked over at the water, her contemplation replaced with good old irritability. "Probably not. And no, I don't know why." 

 

_____

 

What Emma hadn't yet figured out was that kelpies communicate psychically as well as verbally, and that Regina had been in the midst of two conversations with the blue freak while Emma had only been privy to one. Regina did not know what she would do if Emma heard the other. Telling herself it was merely discretion, she decided to keep Emma in the dark. _For the good of all._

This was some horrible, twisted, no-good, terrible punishment for Emma nearly dying for Storybrook's happy endings. How other creatures could have heard of them, out here in the Shadowlands, and also somehow manage to royally fuck up the details, was all beyond Regina. Ineptitude did not surprise her. But the security, the confidence, with which he had assured her--how easy he said it would be to just--to just--she picked up a rock and hurled it into the sea.

Bemused, beside her, Emma said, "Maybe let's not, um, make enemies. Isn't that, like, their home? Don't they live down there? Maybe you're throwing rocks at a preschool or something, Regina."

Regina's expression flashed with with no small amount of I-am-out-of-fucks-to-give. She deliberately picked up a rock, larger this time, glaring at Emma, and pitched it into the sea. 

Emma let out a low whistle behind her teeth. "Evil, my queen."

Regina flushed and stepped away. Away from Emma, from her _my._ Away from the rocks.  
"Emma, why did you make us come here?"

"What?" Emma said, suprised.

"I followed you here. You said we should--"

Emma sounded confused, tentative. "I don't remember that."

Regina scowled, suddenly worried, and put her hands on her hips. "Well, what do you remember?"

Emma looked nervous, and Regina huffed, fully exasperated. "Emma."

"I fell asleep on the corner of your couch. I dreamed--ah, it doesn't matter." A funny expression, fleeting, across Emma's face. "I woke up with a mouthful of sand."

Regina just stared at Emma. "Are you serious?"

"Um, yeah. Why?"

"Gods. You said--never mind." Regina sat hard on the ground, massaging her temple. She had _known_ better. She _had._

Emma said, "When he said, 'they pulled, you chose,' what did he mean?"

Regina thought about the magic circling above them, yanking her and Emma. She thought about her arm tight around Emma's body, Emma's voice insistent and low, Emma's eyes clear and bright. 

Instead of answering, Regina asked, "Have you been dreaming?"

"Killian says I have, but I don't remember any of it. Except--well, when I was in the clearing with David, and it, um, took me out, I remembered being with you and something was chasing us, or maybe we were going towards it." Emma paused, biting her lip, as if making a decision to stop talking or redirect. "But you've had them, and you do remember them, right?"

"Right."

"What else, um, happens in them?" Emma's voice seemed ... anxious, her gaze suddenly fixed on the sand. 

Hmm. "Standard fare. Monsters and you and I nearly dying like the idiots were are. Over and over again." Regina glowered. "I never actually see very much, though," she admitted. "Are you sure you don't you remember what happened last night? You clearly instructed me to let them--" and her voice began to growl, gods help her, she was angry--"take us. Your exact words, Miss Swan, were 'Regina, you have to _let_ us go to them.'"

Emma's response was--how dare she--disbelieving. "And you _listened_? I was _asleep._ "

Regina growled again, and, forgetting her decision of not one minute earlier to stop antagonizing their kidnapper seacreatures, picked up a stick and hurled it into the water. 

"Let's try."

"To get home?" Regina scoffed. "We can't."

"Why not?"

"Do you know how far from home we are, Emma?"

"No...?"

"There aren't even humans in this land. Humans don't exist here."

Emma eyed her doubtfully.

"These lands are so old that they barely exist anymore. I can't even feel our home," Regina admitted, the fear that had been prickling the back of her throat since she'd woken up finally given voice. "All I feel is distance when I think about poofing us. And that means, my dear, that if we try, we may not make it back in one piece or at all. My magic can't locate home."

Emma closed her eyes and lifted her hands. Regina watched her, a very small part of her breathless with hope that Emma could do what she couldn't. 

But. "Oh," Emma said, brow wrinkled. "Yeah, I see. Here," she thrust her hand at Regina's. "Together." 

Regina hesitated. 

"I don't bite. Sometimes we can do things together that we can't do apart." Emma curled her fingers around Regina's. "Try."

Regina gripped Emma's fingers, and as always it was like locking into place, a sense of home springing up between their magic charges that felt both beautiful and inviolable. Regina's magic surged in response to Emma, and Regina tipped her face up to see Emma grinning, eyes closed and fingers flexing. 

"Can you feel home, now?"

The question had no bite, no guile, but roiled Regina's pulse nonetheless. Focus, she reprimanded herself. She tried. She cast about for home and it felt so far. She imagined it, and her stomach dropped. Her magic knew the distance. 

Disappointed, Regina dropped Emma's hand with a sigh. "Not well enough to get us there." 

"Okay. Then. Our next best option is to go hear them out, Regina. It's time. It's going to get dark."

"No," Regina said. Then, petty: "Are you awake enough to give me directions? I lead from now on. Not you."

Emma didn't argue, just rolled her eyes, flourished her hand, which created a little--force field? no, a bubble--around her, and walked directly into the sea after the kelpie. 

For a second, Regina admired her handiwork, watching as the sea swallowed Emma's body. Emma's progression in magic was a really beautiful thing. 

Then Emma's hand broke the surface of the water, beckoning. 

Of course Regina followed, cursing every bit of the way. 

____

 

Emma had never been ... _under the sea_ before, and repressed a hysterical giggle as she stepped one foot in front of the other. 

Regina was behind her. She was grumpy. There was this awareness she felt with Regina lately, her moods even more ephemeral, weather patterns Emma couldn't always predict. 

Emma wondered if Killian was okay, but in the place where missing him should go she only felt a vague sort of relief. 

The kelpies had created a path for her and Regina, a bright line of--shiny, luminescent objects--and Emma shifted her spell to keep her feet firmly on the earth below her, keep her bubble full of oxygen. As she steadily walked deeper and deeper, the light faded, the pressure built around her shoulders and the temperature around her plummeted. Emma murmured a spell to keep herself free of panic, and wondered how Regina was holding up, Regina who hated (a) confined spaces and (b) walking into traps. 

All Emma knew was that that she'd fallen asleep with a full belly on Regina's couch, dreamed about Regina's arms around her, and woke up with a mouthful of sand on a remote island in a realm so far away that nobody could get them home. 

The light at her feet grew suddenly, and she felt eyes around her, presences alert and watchful. She tensed, stopped short, and heard a watery thump as Regina's bubble bumped into hers. 

Emma said, "Regina, where--" and when they echoed muffled around her bubble, Emma realized sound wouldn't travel this way. Well, fuck. 

Regina stepped closer and held her eyes, then shut them. 

Um, okay. 

But then Emma heard a voice in her head. One word. _Glick._

"Glick?" she said, and the water swallowed it. 

_Use your head, Emma,_ and when Emma looked at Regina, she was staring concentratedly at her, and, oh my god--

_Whoa. Is this--are we--psychic?_

Emma couldn't tell, given the dark and the wavy way the water printed itself around their bubbles, but she swore Regina rolled her eyes. 

_Yes. It's not, obviously, something we can do on our own. They're helping us._

A third voice, and Emma recognized it as the storm kelpies'. _Glick._

_What's a glick?_

_That's his name, Emma._

_Oh._

Then: _hi._

_Hi._

Emma gazed around. Her eyes were adjusting to the low light, and she saw and felt hundreds of eyes on her. But it didn't make her afraid. The magic down there was the same as the dusty scented, bone-colored magic in the clearing, and the magic in the dream--well, what she thought had been a dream, until Regina had corrected her, although she still wasn't too clear on those details--

Glick spoke, er, thought: _The two are here. They will bring us our happy endings._

Emma: _How, um, do you propose we do this?_

_Defeat the evil. Like you did. Like you did. Like you did._

Regina, and her thinking was as ascerbic as her actual voice: _She nearly died. No way in hell are we doing that again. You want us to recreate Gideon? You want us to let the darkness take her so that you can be free? What if she doesn't wake up?_

_Trust trust trust. You the compass, you the sword. You the compass, you the sword._

Emma felt a weight in her hand, and looked down to see a shining, translucent sword in her right hand. 

Regina held something else, and maybe it was the compass? 

_Split into points of light. Split into points of light._

Regina: _Hell no._

_No way back but through. No way back but through. We are sorry. We are not sorry._

Emma: _What is it?_

A flutter of activity, a fear that runs through the kelpies, and Glick: _The dragon. The dragon, blue-teethed. Blunt blue-teethed. Doesn't speak. Freezes us. Burns us. Kills us. Makes us into him. Fights us. Is us. Is wrong. Is wrong and is us. We are broken, wrong. Need to start over. Must enter the dragon. Enter and end. End and enter. Must vanquish. Must restore the sun. Must restore the moon. Must restore the sea._

Emma: _Um, this seems ... like a lot. is there another way?_

_Yes, the other way. Yes, yes yes. The queen says no, no, no. The savior asks, asks, asks._

In the silence that followed, Emma struggled to keep her frustration at bay. 

The kelpies--and there were fish down there, and coral, too--a disconnected part of Emma's brain wondered if she would actually ever get the chance to snorkel, under normal circumstances--Emma noticed their teeth, how they could tear her and Regina to shreds if they wanted to, and she shivered. But there was no malice here, only awe, and she still didn't fully understand it, but she knew Regina did, she could feel Regina wavering next to her. 

Glick repeated, softer, and then a chorus of voices picking up his thread, like an underwater chorus--Emma bit back a giggle, and wondered if she was going crazy-- _Yes, the other way. Yes, yes yes. The queen says no, no, no. The savior asks, asks, asks._

Regina's voice, sharp with irritation. _Enough of this._

_Tell her queen, tell her queen, tell her, queen._

The voices overlapped until there were none. Glick waited, and Regina waited, and the silence stretched between them until Glick said: _Sleep, sleep, sleep. It comes. You are ready. You fight, or. Or or or._

At that, Regina waved her hand, and they were back on shore. 

 

___

 

"There's something you're not telling me."

"Go to sleep, Emma."

It was confirmation but no answer, and Emma opened her mouth to protest and then Regina passed her hand over Emma's face and Emma suddenly grew sleepy. Then suspicious. "Did you just fucking do a spell on me to make me stop asking questions?"

"Yes," Regina said. 

"Oh."

"No dreams. No trouble. I'll keep first watch. When you're rested, we'll switch."

Regina curled her hand, and suddenly Emma was on a thick bed in a tent with flaps, dressed in some soft dark clothing she'd never seen before. The air smelled like cedar and jasmine and clean wind. 

Regina had also, in casting, set Emma right beside her, on the same mattress. Regina's voice caught when she said, "This is okay, Emma? I just think we should stay close," and Emma nodded, lie detector pinging but really not caring.

She didn't tell Regina to undo the spell, and her closeness felt nice, so. She fell asleep. 

When she woke, who knows how much later, into a black night, Emma found herself in the same position she'd fallen asleep in. She turned her head up to find that Regina had made the top of their tent invisible, and above, thicker than she had ever seen, thick and bright enough to lay a shadow beneath them, the night was laid bare with stars. 

She must have stirred, because Regina lifted her fingers to Emma's cheek briefly, and then dropped them as quickly, as if remembering herself, saying quietly, "They gave us this."

"Who," Emma asked, her voice rough with sleep. "The kelpies?"

Regina murmured assent and Emma twisted her head up to see her, shadowed against the raw, diamondlike light. 

There were moments with Regina where the world stilled on its axis, where she was beautiful, beautiful enough to twist Emma's breath, to sharpen itself against Emma's chest and stomach. 

Before she caught herself, Emma lifted her hand to Regina's hair, sliding her fingers through and then lightly touching her palm to the bottom edge. Regina closed her eyes for a second, but did not look down at Emma when she finally said, "I haven't explained everything to you, and I should. Do you know where we are?"

Emma shook her head. "Nope."

"These are the Shadowlands. The magic here is older. These realms have almost disappeared. The evil here is different. It's an evil of disappearing, of pretending a thing until another thing winks out of existence."

"Like Tink's wings."

"Not entirely. It's not just about belief. It's an evil fueled by denial, by separating and denying the self, leaving the pieces to destroy each other, because they don't recognize each other any more."

"Like you and the Evil Queen."

"Huh." Regina cocked her head. "I hadn't thought about that. But ... yes."

"So what, the solution here is we have to believe in the little guys enough until the bad guys go away?"

Regina took a moment to answer. "No. It's not our belief that has anything to do with it. I think we may have to fight."

"We can do that," Emma said, confidence strengthening her words. "We always have."

"No," Regina said sharply. "No. I don't want you killed."

"Regina, you've got to let that go."

Emma felt Regina tense next to her, but neither took her words back nor moved away. This would not be an argument. Not tonight. Not while they were stranded and Regina looked like the moon and had just begun to lace her fingers through Emma's hair. 

Emma spoke again. "Well, then why do they want us? Because we're a badass crime fighting duo?"

Regina smiled, but still didn't look at Emma. "Maybe."

Then, acting on a suspicion she'd had they'd been underwater, Emma guessed: "What did the kelpie tell you this morning? Like psychically?"

Regina froze. Bingo. 

"Nothing."

"You're lying," Emma said flatly. 

Regina shook her head. 

"You are. I know it, and you know it. We don't have time for whatever this is, Regina. We're a team. We're an us."

"Us," Regina repeated slowly, chin tipped back and eyes closed. 

"I don't see anyone else here," Emma retorted. "You've got to trust me. No more ... wandering in the predawn woods alone. No more knowing and not telling."

Regina's eyes flew open and for the first time since Emma had woken up, Regina gazed at her, eyes full and fierce and uncompromising. "Then no more running, Emma."

"Okay," Emma said, but she felt her voice waver. 

"Okay?" 

Emma nodded, firmer this time. Regina smiled a little at her, and Emma warmed. 

"We can fight," Regina said, softly. "We can fight. We can fight through each realm. I wonder if our dreams were maps, if there's a way to call up what we have buried in our subconscious."

"Okay, but you don't want to fight," said Emma.

"I'm not sure the alternative is any easier," Regina said wryly. 

"Which is?"

Regina took her fingers out of Emma's hair, who felt the loss instantly, and leaned back on her palms. 

"Do you love Killian?"

"You never call him that," Emma said warily. "And Regina, he's my husband."

"I know." She averted her eyes. "Do you love him, Emma? Do you miss him?"

"Stop it," Emma said quietly. "This is what the kelpie told you?"

"No--"

"I just don't understand what that has to do with--"

"Emma. They watched us. We raise a boy. We moved the moon. We sacrificed endlessly, back and forth, back and forth. We look at each other sometimes like--" Regina cut herself off, unable to go further. 

"Oh," Emma said. 

Regina lapsed into quiet, refusing to look at Emma.

Emma opened and then closed her mouth, feeling a childish fear grow and grow and grow inside of her. "They think we have true love."

Regina went absolutely still. "Yes, that is exactly what they think."

"Oh," Emma cleared her throat, working it out slowly. "Love is the short cut. Love is the thing you didn't want to tell me. It's love or fighting back. They think our love--" and she cut herself off, unwilling to even think farther than that. 

She didn't ask Regina why, or how. She didn't move closer to or away. Everything felt like it was on the verge of breaking around them, and Emma felt suddenly, irrationally like throwing herself back in the sea. 

Instead, Emma waited a few beats, and then said, very slowly, because it felt like walking underwater, the pressure on her body making her forget how to breathe, "We should talk through our dreams tomorrow, figure out our strategies. I don't remember mine, but magic can help me remember."

"For fighting," Regina said, equally slowly, jaw tensing in the starlight. 

Emma kept her voice level, touching her wedding ring with her finger. "Yes. For fighting." 

Regina said, so so softly, then: "There are a thousand ways to love somebody, Emma. We're mothers together, we're family."

Emma swallowed the lump in her throat, unsure what Regina was proposing, or was she just--reminding? Emma forced a smile. "Yes, we are."

Neither of them spoke again. Eventually Emma sat up and guided Regina down into her lap, who went without protest. Emma did not remember ever touching Regina like this, ever being held by Regina, except in dream, but it didn't feel wrong. As soon as she allowed her self to think that, an image of Killian rose in her mind, his hurt expression, his mock-scowl I-told-you-so. Still she did not push Regina away. 

Regina was home. Regina was family. There was nothing to be afraid of. 

When Emma lifted her fingers to send Regina into a dreamless, comfortable sleep, Regina scowled and said, "You're not sending me into a coma, Miss Swan. I am perfectly capable of executing my own sleep," and only then did Emma begin to feel like everything was maybe okay. 

Regina passed out within seconds, and as soon as she did, Emma loosely tucking Regina's hair behind her ear, a figure blotted the sky high above, spread its wings, and descended with a scream. 

The kelpies surrounded them, a protective, hovering force, and Glick stirred in Emma's consciousness. 

_Trust it,_ he said. _Trust trust trust._

No, Emma spat back, impulsive, knowing exactly what he was saying, refusing with every inch of her body to comply with a demand that was ... fucking impossible in all ways. This was not their story. The love--their love was not _that_ love. 

The shriek descended, louder and louder, and Emma's body turned cold. She looked down, and in her hand was the same sword from earlier, heavy where her arm was wrapped across Regina's body. But Regina was awake, her eyes dark and open, _beautiful,_ Emma thought, irrational fear flooding her body at the thought, and in Regina's hand was a compass.

"We face it, then," Regina growled, all fight, springing to her feet. "Now." And Emma gritted her teeth and tensed her body, and they leapt up together, trailing a glittering stream of magic as they dove into dragon's fiery mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, you made it all the way!! please leave a little note if so far you like it
> 
> ch. 3 coming soon!!


	3. Tuesday

They flew straight into ... wings and fire and unearthly screams and heat and cold. Wind whipped at Emma's face as they propelled themselves impossibly higher. Impatient, maybe a little terrified, she batted the hair from her eyes and cast a glance at Regina. 

The sword in Emma's hand began to glow. She lifted it now in front of herself just as she felt the dense breath of the massive, squalling beast close around them. Emma forced her mind to slow down and .... _focus_ , while around her, the very air they breathed spat and clawed and screeched, and just as Emma started to have _serious_ doubts about her and Regina's sanity, in light of the absolute lack of a plan, the entire world slowed. To a stop. 

Immediate silence. 

Emma whipped her body around, suddenly--was she suspended midair? oh my god she was--to Regina, who was smirking in pleasure, then suddenly glaring at the object in her hand. "Whoa," said Emma. 

Regina, floating Regina, smoothed her skirt and regarded the compass in her hand darkly. She shook it hard. "I don't know what this damn thing _does_ , Emma."

"But wait, um, Regina," Emma looked up at the dragon. Its mouth was open and the beginnings of a blue, ghostly fire lit the back of its throat. Its scales were close enough to touch, glinting black and silver in the limited starlight, and one shining, unblinking eye stared directly at them. Curious, Emma reached her hand out to touch it and then retracted her fingers, immediately thinking the better of it. 

Emma then looked down to the beach below them, to a throng of kelpies in the sea as far as her eyes could make out, and scattered all over the beach, also paused, motionless and watching upwards, bright with fear and hope, some of their mouths opened in O's as if yelling, cheering them on. 

Disbelief rising in her voice, Emma said, "Did you just--stop-- _time_?"

But Regina was not paying attention. Instead, her face had taken on that desperate, frustrated look that Emma knew only meant one thing. Emma shouted "No!" just in time for Regina to pause, arm lifted in a perfect pitch and fingers already loosening on the reviled object. 

"I can't get this damn thing to _work_ , Emma," she snarled. 

"Don't _throw_ it! Regina!" Regina glared at her as her arm dropped. Emma bit back a inappropriate laugh. "Can we focus on the important thing?"

"What would that be? That we're about to get snuffed by some dragon? That they gave me a goddamn compass that doesn't even work? What, do they think I'm a fucking pirate?" 

Emma ignored her enough to say, "You stopped time? We can _do_ that?"

As if it was the most obvious thing in the world, Regina rolled her eyes. "It's the oldest set of lands, Emma." 

"Excuse me, your majesty, but--"

"The magic here can do anything." Regina amended, "Well, almost anything. It's not easy, but," she smirked. "I'm good, it seems."

"So we can we just magic this asshole dead, right?"

Regina looked at Emma patiently, as if she was truly an idiot. "Should be really easy, right? Why didn't I think of that? Let me know how that goes, Emma." 

Emma stared at the dragon, trying to blink it out of existence, but all she could see were its scales, the smoke, the ash--she flinched--their tent far below them had been reduced to. Massive beside their relatively tiny bodies. Regina's attention had already turned back to the compass with a scowl. "Um, I guess not."

"I want to burn this." 

"You have a one-track mind," Emma informed her. "Just _relax_ , Regina, and it'll work for you. Look." She pointed at her sword, still a little heavy in her hand but glowing. "If you relax, it feels more like it's connected to your body. Here," and she touched Regina's hand, the one that held the compass, and brought hand and tool to Regina's eye level, ignoring the frission that always--there was no time for this, they were about to get eaten--saying, sternly, "Breathe. Calm. Down."

Regina shot her eyebrow up dismissively but did as Emma told her, floating and closing her eyes. Her shoulders dropped. 

The dragon blinked and the sound in its throat started to rumble. Emma jumped. "Shit, Regina, don't relax so much that you like start time back or whatever." Regina's lip quirked but the dragon stopped immediately, paused like TV. TV? Whatever. Emma shook her head. 

"Look, Emma," Regina said quietly. 

In her hand, the compass glowed, a similar blue color to Emma's sword, but the directions had disappeared from its face. Emma furrowed her brow, but Regina just closed her eyes again, tilting her head to the side, as if listening to it. 

When Regina opened her eyes again, they were shining and soft.

"So..." Emma prompted, heart beating unaccountably in her throat. 

"It's," and Regina paused. "Interesting."

At that, Emma gestured with her hands impatiently. "More words, please."

"Yes. Well. It's actually kind of simple. That sword is made with kelpie magic. They made it," eyes lifting to Emma's, "for you. That dragon arose because it is the thing they are most afraid of. They're all down there strengthening this sword with their intent. All you have to do is pierce its skin."

"They imagined it?"

"Yes, Emma. Here, collective fears can take on actual shapes. It doesn't make the dragon any less real. In our world, it's more--" and she paused, lips hovering in a smile that flickered sad and amused, "indirect."

"What exactly are they afraid of?"

Regina shrugged. "Obliteration, death, extinction. You know, like the rest of us."

"For fuck's sake, why imagine a thing that could do that to them, then?"

"Don't you imagine the things you're afraid of?"

Completely unbidden, the image of Regina's face upturned to starlight not hours earlier swam into Emma's vision. She shook her head back and forth a little too hard, saying, "So I touch the dragon with this sword and it's enough?"

Regina hesitated. "Well. Almost. How did you defeat Gideon?"

"Well, you told me I couldn't kill him, and he couldn't kill me, and that I had to trust myself."

Regina studied her. "And then what?"

"I mean, you were _there_ , so--" Emma's gaze flicked to the dragon's unseeing eye, worried, for a moment, that if she stopped paying attention to it they'd be burned to a crisp or whatever in the middle of this trip down memory lane. 

"Emma, then what happened?"

She expelled a breath. "I--I just surrendered. I did it for love," she said, avoiding Regina's eyes entirely. "I sacrificed myself for love. I chose to let him kill me, and so it became, like, not a killing."

"Okay." Regina cleared her throat. "Were you afraid?"

"No, I don't think so. I looked at Henry, I looked at my parents, I looked at Killian, I looked at--" she broke off abruptly.

"Me," Regina supplied gently. 

Emma shifted, uncomfortable. "Yeah. I decided and so I wasn't afraid. And then, um, Henry brought me back."

"Are you afraid now?"

Emma opened her mouth to protest and then closed it to think. "A little, I guess." She peeked at the dragon again. "Scratch that. I'm terrified."

"What would make you less afraid?"

Emma gestured impatiently. "Can you even SEE it, Regina?"

Regina, so infuriatingly calm, just said, "Yes. What would make you feel less afraid?"

In her hand, the sword grew heavy as Emma looked at Regina in confusion. "I mean, we'll die if we lose, right? I'm scared we'll lose."

"Is that all?"

"Why does this matter?"

"Because as long as you're holding that sword, that--thing--will feed off of your fear, too." 

Oh. 

"Try, Emma."

Emma closed her eyes. Listened to her own fear. Oh... oh.

And it flew out of Emma's mouth before she could take it back. "Could you just go wait down on the beach or something?"

Regina pulled back in surprise. "What?"

"It would make it easier."

"Why?"

"Jesus, Regina. It just _would_."

That fathomless, I-see-you look was back in Regina's eyes, and Emma would have scowled but it was always so hard to tear her gaze away when Regina did this to her, cut through all of her ... just, all of her, and _saw_ her. 

Then Regina, mouth suddenly firmed in decision, stepped closer, and then one step closer, tentative, as though Emma was a wild animal who would spook if neared too fast. 

She put her hand on Emma's wrist, then slid her fingers against Emma's, never breaking gaze, so soft, so direct, and speaking in that no-nonsense tone well before Emma, stunned and motionless, could even wrap her mind around the possibility of resisting. 

"Emma. If I told you that I'm not letting go, that when you succeed, no matter what happens, I'll be safe, I'll be with you and alive, is that enough for you to do this with--less--fear?"

As if siphoned by each of Regina's clipped, deliberate words, Emma's terror drained. In its place, a hope sprang wild and immediate. Emma did not look at the hope. She looked only at Regina, small and unyielding and fierce, hovering against a world she had paused around them. 

And then Emma made a decision, sliding her palm against Regina's, fastening their fingers together, stubbornly ignoring the litter of sparks, telling herself it was all and only so she could be absolutely sure to hold onto Regina as tightly as possible no matter what happened in the next few seconds. 

Regina bit back a shaky exhale, darting Emma a soft look, and at _that,_ the sword went weightless and bright in Emma's other hand. 

And really, she should be afraid, she should be worried about the territory they seemed to keep finding themselves in, like stubborn children playing while a landslide threatened, but instead, Emma felt an impossible cockiness, a full lightness like joy flood her. She twisted the sword in her hand, aligning with it, understanding she could and would win. 

She smiled and fixed her eyes on her target. 

In her ear, Regina's voice went low, dark, furious, and commanding. "You _obliterate_ him on the count of three, Emma, do you hear me?" and a thrill shot through Emma as she raised her sword and the world spun back into motion. 

 

_____

 

Emma raised her sword, levitated it for a split second and then drove it with the force of all of her magic into the dragon's throat. 

The dragon exploded into what looked like a field of glitter, bits of its magic swarming around them, and Regina felt herself struggle for consciousness as Emma's hand slipped its grip around hers and they fell, fell, fell. 

Sudden daylight. A chorus of kelpies. _Win, win win win. We believed you, you believed you, we believed you, you believed you, win win win--_

_Love love love, savior and her queen, queen and her savior,_

_Our queen, our saviour, our queen, our savior--_

Emma stirred beside her--had she knocked out for a second?--eyes widening as she took in their fall. She let go of Regina's hand entirely, winding her arms tightly around Regina's waist, and Regina, jerked into sudden understanding as the ground hurtled ever closer, lifted her wrists and cast a spell to slow their descent, floating them down to the ground slow and winding as one leaf.

The kelpies approached, Glick strong in her mind, saying something, something, and Regina felt relief wash over her, _it is time to go home home home savior queen queen savior_ , felt something reflexive and strengthening in her magic, and then--

The world shifted again as their feet touched the ground, the air changed, and Regina's sight went wavy. 

She tried furiously to cast another time-spell, but nothing happened, and she felt that old magic, the one in the living room, the one underwater, begin to take shape and shift around them, gathering force again. 

_You choose fight? You chose fight? You chose fight?_ Glick's voice was dismayed, growing fainter as the whirling took them again. Regina fought back against the whirlwind, thrashing against it and throwing her magic against it in violent, erratic bursts. _Yes yes yes yes. But! But! Take the easy way. Queen and her savior. Savior and her queen._

She couldn't find Emma. She grasped around, blinded and just fucking _over_ this, emotions boiling to a tipping point.

Then: _So stubborn!_

Rage suffused Regina, broke through her common sense and restraint with the cold precision and fury and heat and devastation of a nuclear bomb. 

She did not know if the words left her lips or her mind or both, if it was a spell she cast or not, or when the tears started, but allowing herself a moment to sink unrestrained into the violence of her fury, Regina screamed into the magic so intent on swallowing the words from her breath: _She doesn't CHOOSE me! LET me be FREE of THIS!_

Immediately, the roaring ebbed. And when Regina came to this time, she became aware of three things: the ground under her feet had shifted from sand to concrete, Emma was nowhere to be seen, and she was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it'll be okay!! (nothing can keep our ladies apart for long! not even themselves!) 
> 
> please, leave a little note if you like it so far. (it's deeply encouraging.)


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